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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

December 07, 2005

Good intent

Sometimes I feel sorry for certain products.

It's hard to pin it down but it is to do with a product being intended for good but nevertheless failing commercially because it is ill-judged in some way. Items are often designed to be nice but come across as embarrassing. Obtaining these objects always causes you to harbour some sort of ingratitude. Like bumble bees, which are against nature, these products shouldn't exist in this world, but somehow they do.

Here's a list of some of them.

. Nice red bag. Chocolate. My dad used to buy them for me as a treat. He thought I liked them but they were always enormously disappointing. They're still pretty rubbish, eh? They still exist only because grown-ups mistakenly buy them for ungrateful yet discerning children.

Chocolate Buttons. Unfathomably dull. They might have satisfied people in the 1930s when it was legal to commit murder for a banana, but not these days.

Umbrellas. What stupid fucker invented the umbrella? Why do we still have them? They're technologically equivalent to Penny-farthing bicycles. In fact, umbrellas are so rubbish I don't even feel sorry for them.

Wax crayons. Only useful for when you drive out in the Morris Minor on a Sunday, wearing your tweed cap and stringback driving gloves, to take rubbings of headstones in a village churchyard after an exhausting bell-ringing session. Devoid of any creative function otherwise.

Satsumas. ** Always disappointing. Mostly sour and containing pips to choke the unweary. Only valid purpose is as a prop for local petty criminals to commit fraud against tourists in Tunisia and other North African countries. "You owe me £500! You bite my Satsuma and insult my grandmother who lives in Manchester United! We are going to kill you now unless you pay us!" That sort of thing.

Most soft toys. People buy them with love for their children, imagining that their kids will love and gain comfort from soft toys. The real truth is that children use them to practise murder and violence.

Also, it's widely known that soft toys come alive whenever you're not looking, in order to pracise sinister and unnatural acts, like pissing in your orange juice or curdling the milk.

Potted Meat. I felt so sorry for this product that I went out and bought a pot. Being non-red-meat-o-phageous I bought a fish variety. I wanted to say "goodbye" to it as a product. There was an element of nostalgia involved as my mother was heavily dependant on Potted Meat in the sixties when we lived in the ghettos of Nottingham.

Unfortunately when I opened the jar there was quite a lot of broken glass mixed in with the meat and that sort of put me off. Potted meat still exists mostly because old people don't know any better.

** Thank you to Marie for catching me off my guard once again by pointing out that I'm actually talking about clementines here. Not satsumas.


  • Shippam's?

    That was that "clever" advert that purported to be a quiz in which people weren't allowed to say yes or something. And the final question was always, "Shippam's?" And, dagnabit, they'd always fall for it and say yes.

    I used to fantasise that they'd never fool me with it. But of course I now realise it was a script.

    Very funny post, Simon.

    By Blogger bot37363838, at 6:02 am  

  • I love umbrellas and satsumas. And you are wrong, satsumas are sweet and pipless, I think you want to be directing your ire against the clementine.

    By Blogger Marie, at 7:18 am  

  • The satsumas that I seem to get offered are bitter and randomly seeded with hard woody nodules. Maybe soft toys have been at them.

    I thought "clementine" was a Marks & Spenser toff's word for "satsuma" anyway, like "red leicester and shallot" instead of "cheese & onion", or "sea salt with somerset cider vinegar," etc.

    Are clementines actually different from satsumas then? If you explanation is correct then whoever decided to replace satsumas in the shops with these nasty things ought to be shot.

    By Blogger SimonHolyHoses, at 8:22 am  

  • Which is not to mention the humble tangerine.

    By Blogger bot37363838, at 9:00 am  

  • Eeek!

    And cumquots come to think of it.

    But they're easy to identify.

    Wonder how many types of small orange-like fruit there actually are?

    By Blogger SimonHolyHoses, at 9:06 am  

  • Er... lots.

    By Blogger bot37363838, at 9:07 am  

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